Up Your Sleeves
by FanfictioningFangirl
Summary: "MJ lifts his arms, fingers curling around his tricep, and Peter goes absolutely still. "Have you been working out?" Her voice is quiet; a whisper meant only for him." Or, Peter has a crush on MJ, and MJ knows that Peter works out. Pre-Spideychelle.


**Title: Up Your Sleeves**

**Summary: "MJ lifts his arms, fingers curling around his tricep, and Peter goes absolutely still. "Have you been working out?" Her voice is quiet; a whisper meant only for him." Or, Peter has a crush on MJ, and MJ knows that Peter works out.**

**Disclaimer: ****I am not associated with Marvel and make no profit from any of what I am posting.**

* * *

**Up Your Sleeves**

**_"I really like MJ, man. Okay? She's awesome, she's funny in a sort of dork way, and sometimes I catch her looking at me, and I feel stood up..." _**—**_ Peter Parker, Spider-Man: Far From Home_**

"Aren't you absolutely melting?"

MJ's staring at him, again, eyes narrowed, and corners of her lips quirked upwards like she knows something that he doesn't.

It takes Peter a moment to realise that she's asked him something. That she's waiting for a reply.

"I —" he says, shrugging half-heartedly and burying his hands deeper into his pockets. "It's comfy. I'm lazy." He shrugs. Again.

MJ tilts her head sideways, still squinting. "Sure," she says. "Whatever you say."

And she dodges around him, elbow knocking into his, and disappears into the pool of students heading towards the lockers.

He spins around, trying to stare after her, but she's gone.

MJ's right, of course. She almost always is.

He _is_ melting. But he's also wearing his suit underneath, and the last thing Peter needs is for someone at school to spot the red and blue fabric underneath his clothes and call him out for it.

The truth is, he's been scared.

He's spent the last few months working twice as hard to stay in shape. The world has fallen into chaos. The number of homeless has doubled, the number of people desperate to go back to the way things were before the blip has grown exponentially. There are more thieves and more fights. Above all, there are twice as many people who need saving. They saved the half that had been blipped, sure, but it's fucked up the world too.

So, he's been out for longer. Practising his web-shooting, and swinging around town while patrolling. The next time something happens, Peter doesn't want to be caught off-guard.

(Because, this time, there won't be any Mr Stark to save the day.)

* * *

She's sitting next to him in math class, head propped up on her elbow, eyes fixed on the board. No. She's sitting close to him. Her elbow crossing the invisible line that separates their sides of the table, her knee almost invading his personal space.

Admittedly, he's been staring at her instead of the board. She spins her pencil between her fingers when she's listening, scrunches her nose when Mr Singh speaks too fast.

Last year, (or, well, before the blip) the most Peter ever talked to MJ was in Decathlon.

This year, she seems to be everywhere.

And, well, he doesn't really mind.

MJ huffs, suddenly, dramatically dropping her head on the table, propped up arm smacking into his.

She swears under her breath, sits up quickly and turns so that she's staring at him now. Peter feels his cheeks heat up like he's guilty of being caught staring. Only, he's not been caught staring, and _she _is the one who just hit him.

"I'd apologise," MJ says, "but it honestly feels like you've got rocks in your sleeve."

And, as though to prove her point, she prods his arm. Then she prods again. He can see something shifting behind her eyes. Like a thought has just dawned upon her.

MJ lifts his arms, fingers curling around his tricep, and Peter goes absolutely still.

"Have you been working out?" Her voice is quiet; a whisper meant only for him.

"I —" he says, about to defend himself, but it's MJ. She'd figure out the truth anyway. "Yes. Maybe."

MJ rolls her eyes, drops his arm. "Another one bites the dust," she says, turning back to the front.

And, maybe, it's because the word dust sends a burst of panic through him or, maybe it's because she's still sitting so close and because she was just _holding_ his arm. But, all at once, Peter can't breathe.

(And he kind-of wants to hold her hand too.)

* * *

She climbs onto the bus. _His_ bus. One hand wrapped around the pole grip and the other pressing her book against her chest. Her eyes are fixed on the ground, her shoulders hunched, hair falling over her face.

"Excuse me," he says, nudging himself past the couple in front of him. The bus is already getting full, and he just abandoned a perfectly good seat in favour of standing with MJ.

"Hey!" Peter says, pushing his way next to her, grabbing the pole grip just inches below her hand.

MJ looks up. "Hey," she says, cocking her head sideways and he swears she stands a little taller.

"Welcome to my ride," he says, and he's grinning at her like an idiot.

She rolls her eyes at him. "I thought you usually walked."

She's not wrong. Peter used to patrol Queens immediately after school, but then May found out about the whole Spider-Man thing and, especially after the blip, she's been insisting he comes home from school, eat something, finish his homework and _then_ head out.

And, honestly, though he whines about it, Peter doesn't mind.

Not that he can tell MJ any of that.

"May likes it when I come home before she heads out for her evening shift." He shrugs, tugging a hand through his hair. "How come you're headed my way?"

"Left my keys at home, so I'm going to my Mom's office instead."

She looks down when she says it, eyes not finding his and Peter is half tempted to tell her to come home with him. He knows what the others know - that she isn't super close to her parents. That they weren't there to pick her up that night after Washington. That she's lonelier than she lets on.

May wouldn't mind either.

And, god forbid, he wouldn't mind some help in Maths.

But MJ's already moved on.

"Do you think they're going to redo the Sokovian Accords?"

Peter blinks. "What?"

"I mean, last time — when they first brought it up — it was because the Avengers fucked up at Sokovia, right? They saved a lot of people, but the general damage was worse and whatnot. I figured this feels like more of the same."

She pauses a moment, as though she's expecting him to argue, but, Peter remains silent.

"I mean, think about it. Five years is a long time. Society shifted to accommodate less than 50% of the population. We've gone ahead and fucked up the planet more than before because everything doubled instantaneously."

She snaps her fingers from dramatic effect and Peter, eyes wide, is _almos_t surprised at how close to the truth she is.

"Not to mention," MJ continues, "the number of casualties because people blipped back mid-air or in the middle of the road and the fact that globally, the number of homeless has grown exponentially. If my Dad had been blipped too, I wouldn't have had anywhere to go back to. We're lucky that Mom found work so quickly, but she's missed out on five years of experience and in most places that would mean that you're out."

He knows what she means.

Between running her charity, private tutoring her ex-Boss' children and working part-time at the nearby department store, May barely has time for herself anymore. Their new apartment is cramped, but at least it's a roof over their heads. Though, if Peter is being honest, he knows that the only reason they got a new home when so many others didn't is that Pepper helped out.

"You're not wrong," he admits. "But the general public isn't thinking along those lines. I'm sure there are people who are pissed —" (people who will probably become a future supervillain, knowing Peter's luck), "— but the UN won't act against the Avengers if they're still being regarded as heroes. They don't want that kind of backlash either."

"But last time —"

"Last time, nobody died." Last time, Tony was still alive.

MJ falls silent.

"Oh," she says softly, and he can swear she wants to say something more. That she has more opinions and thoughts and -

The bus swerves suddenly and MJ, no longer holding onto the pole grip, stumbles.

But he's got her — hand on the small of her back and fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"You okay?" he asks.

And, with a wicked smile that sends his heart racing, MJ says: "Good thing you've been working out."

* * *

He meets her at the locker room.

Or, well, bumps into her.

They've just gotten out from AcDec practice, and he'd gone back to grab his hoodie, expecting everyone to have left by now, but she's still there. Reading while she walks, a second book tucked under her arm and highlighter sticking out of her pocket. Something about the hunch of MJ's shoulders tells Peter that her bag is stuffed too.

"Need a hand?"

She looks up from her book, hair falling over her eyes and eyebrow raised. Peter swears her cheeks turn pink.

"With what?"

It's AcDec next week — they're headed to Washington again — and they've all been studying a lot. MJ especially has been slogging more than the rest of them. She lost the position of Team Captain after the blip and Peter has a hunch that she's trying to earn it back.

Not to mention, five years of trivia is a lot to catch up on.

"Your books," he says, gesturing to her bag.

She rolls her eyes. "I know you work out, Parker, but I can carry my own bag." She sounds defensive. Protective even.

But there are bags under her eyes, and she's never been one for slouching and, fuck, he'd been a dick for making her walk home like this.

"You sure?" he asks, taking a step forward.

"Yeah."

He nods at her, and, before MJ can react, Peter reaches out, slips the book she's reading out of her hand, keeping his finger inside so that she doesn't lose her page.

"What —" MJ says, reaching out to grab her book back but, with his free hand, he's taken the second book she had tucked under her arm.

"Books for the bag," he says, stepping back.

"Keep them," MJ says. Then she squeezes her eyes shut, looking mildly frustrated. "It's heavy," she says.

Peter snorts. "I know."

"You live on the opposite end of town."

"I know."

MJ sighs. She slips her bag off her shoulders and drops it on the ground, rolling her shoulders back to ease the tension.

"I'll carry your bag," she says.

Peter grins. "I've been working out," he reminds her.

"I'll buy you a coffee."

"Make that a pretzel and I'm sold."

(She buys him both.)

* * *

He sees her at the airport, arms crossed across her chest, still wearing her clothes from two days ago. They lost everything in London. Their clothes, their belongings, their passports. Uncle Ben's bag.

He tries not to think about it as Mr Harringon ushers them through a side entrance. Tries not to think about how much he's fucked up this past few weeks.

"You look good, loser," MJ says with an approving nod, taking his hand in hers and entwining their fingers together.

And, just like that, everything suddenly seems better. Beck's gone, he reminds himself. He fucked up, hurt more people than he'd intended to and he's been an idiot these past few weeks. But, inspire of the utter chaos that has been their Europe trip, Peter's glad for it.

For this.

(For MJ.)

Ned winks dramatically at Peter when he sits next to MJ on the plane, Betty gives them a cheerful thumbs-up, and Brad glares at them from two seats ahead. Things honestly couldn't be better.

He nestles her head on MJ's shoulder and watches as MJ clicks through the movies on the screen in front of them.

"You know," she says suddenly, "I guess it's a good thing you've been working out.

Peter rolls his eyes, which is definitely something he's picked up by spending so much time with MJ, and grins into her shoulder.

"Maybe," he says, "I could take you for a swing around New York when we get back. That way, you can check if I've worked out enough."

It sounds more flirtatious than he'd intended and Peter cringes internally, half expecting MJ to joke about it. Instead, she lays her head on top of his, linking their arms together.

"Yeah," MJ says. "Sounds good."

And, with a smile on his face, Peter falls asleep before she says anything else

* * *

**I think this fic was 90% inspired by that one scene in FFH where MJ's trying to catch a peek at shirtless Peter, thank you very much. I've had the beginning written for months, and the ending for the fic hit me out of the blue so I had to finish it!**

**I am working on JSaBB too, but the chapter's a little bit stuck, and classes have started again, so I don't have nearly as much free time as I did before so please bear with me for a bit.**

**As always, thanks for reading!**

**Find me on Tumblr: Wizarding Aesthetics**


End file.
